Half-Blood
by MaxRide05
Summary: When she finally spoke, her eyes were downcast and her voice was soft, almost inaudible. "What about your skin?" She looked up at him then, and it seemed to take everything she had just to drag her eyes up to his face. "Can you change the colour of your skin, too?" :: Roxanne tries to deal with who she is in regards to her family. Teddy is there to help her every step of the way.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But I had a lot of fun playing with these characters.**

**Written for the Family Boot Camp.**

**This ended up being a lot longer than I expected. But I don't regret it; I think topics like the ones written below deserve the proper attention. I just hope I gave it that.**

She was crying in the orchard—silently, tear tracks running down her round cheeks. His stomach twisted; he hated it when she cried. Teddy knelt in front of her, ran a hand over her tight curls. Roxanne jerked away from him and he frowned.

She mumbled something about her hair. That she hated it? Teddy's frown deepened.

"Hey," he whispered. "Rox, look at me."

When she finally raised her head, her eyes widened a little. Then a slow smile spread across her face. He'd changed his straight, blue hair into dark brown curls that were just a little looser than hers.

The six year old raised a hand to touch his curls but then she paused, and eventually let her hand drop to her side. She brushed her knuckles across her wet eyes and sniffed. "You have hair like me," she said, thickly, when both her hands were folded in her lap. He could still hear the wonder lacing her voice—she was looking at him in wonder, too.

She wasn't the only Weasley who didn't have straight hair. Lucy had her mum's wavy hair, just as Rose had a tamer version of Hermione's, and Freddie—Roxanne's twin—had a head of curls himself. Only his were a lot looser. No one else had hair like hers.

Of course Roxanne had noticed that. When Teddy spoke softly, "Yeah, I do," he had no idea that it was just the start. Because two years later he and Roxanne would be in her bedroom, catching up while playing Scrabble, and their conversation would take a strange turn.

Roxanne looked down at her letters and froze, the laughter that had been on her face dying a swift death. Slowly, she rearranged the letters into a word Teddy couldn't quite make out, and then she drew back—almost in a cringe, or a flinch. Her eyes were glued to the letters in front of her and her breath was a little shaky. Before he could ask what it was and if she was alright, Roxanne spoke in a whisper.

"Do you remember when you changed your hair—not just colour but texture, too—because I was upset about something... someone said?"

He waited to see if she'd tell him who it had been and what they'd said, but she didn't. Teddy didn't press her for an answer. She might tell him eventually. So he'd let go of her elusiveness—for now. He glanced at his fingers which were tapping out a beat on the carpet, and said mildly, "Yeah, I remember."

Teddy looked at her sitting opposite him on the floor, the board between them. Roxanne opened her mouth, faltered, then looked away. When she finally spoke, her eyes were downcast and her voice was soft, almost inaudible. "What about your skin?" She looked up at him then, and it seemed to take everything she had just to drag her eyes up to his face. "Can you change the colour of your skin, too?"

"I..." Now Teddy was the one who faltered. "Why do you ask?"

Roxanne tried for a casual shrug as she fingered the thread of her quilt. "Just something Rose said."

"What did she say?" Teddy frowned.

"It was something she learnt at school. That Primary school of hers." Rose was one of the few Weasleys to go to a Primary school. Because of her mother, Teddy supposed. "Rose said I was a mutt."

Teddy blinked. "What?"

"A mulatto...I think that's how she said it." Roxanne shrugged again and just how could Teddy stop her doing that again? Her faux-casualness annoyed him. "Or mutt for short. It's like... Well, the Muggles have another meaning for 'half-blood'." Roxanne gestured to herself. "It's me. People like me. Half-breeds is what it means. It's...like a nicer way of saying it." Roxanne's voice had lowered to a whisper. "Rose told me that, too."

_Nicer way of.._. There was no nicer way of saying something like that.

In the Wizarding World, half-blood basically meant half-worthy. The worthy half was the Pureblood one, the magical one, the other half—the dirty half—was the Muggle one. Teddy hadn't known it was like that in the Muggle world too, that they even had the same word. Yes, he'd known that some people saw others who weren't white as inferior—perhaps even subhuman—but 'half-blood'? It was enough to make his head spin.

Half-blood.

Half-worthy.

Half-human.

Teddy felt vaguely ill. He'd wondered about himself, his disposition. He had a werewolf for a father, and a metamorphous—a shape-shifter—for a mother. It had crossed his mind that he might be some sort of half-breed. Half-human. How could it not have?

He got a little cranky around the full moon, which couldn't be helped. It was no one's fault. Yet whenever one of his female classmates complained about her period, he felt like screaming. He felt like getting in their faces and saying, "Hey, guess what—I have a time of the month too. You don't hear me whining about it!"

But they did know—about his father, that is. That Remus Lupin had been a werewolf. Teddy felt like the other Hogwarts students were wary around him because of that. No one had ever said anything to him but he couldn't help his thoughts, his suspicions. He had tried to mellow things with jokes and quips, but he wasn't sure it had worked. He was still a loner of sorts. The only friends he had were probably drawn to his façade of flirtatiousness and laziness.

It was only around Victoire that he felt relaxed, it was like he didn't have to try with her. Like he could be himself. And she had a way of making him laugh that he just loved. She was exactly what he needed in a friend.

And sometimes Teddy almost felt like he and Victoire were kindred. After all, she was half a monster, too.

He held in a sigh. He didn't like thinking those kind of thoughts. And why did anyone have to be half of anything, anyway? Why couldn't they just be whole?

Why couldn't they just be human?

And he had a worrying suspicion about Roxanne's question. If he could change his hair to match hers, could he also change his skin colour? To match hers, even?

_You have hair like me_, she'd said after he found her crying outside. Teddy should have seen this coming—he cursed his blindness. Because, "You have hair like me," was barely a step away from, "You have skin like me." Which was, inevitably, what she'd think if he did change his skin colour, and he changed it to match hers. He felt like that was what she was really asking of him.

Teddy suspected that Roxanne wanted a living, breathing mirror; a boy version of herself that her brother—her own twin—wasn't. If Teddy became that mirror, if he changed his skin to be the same complexion as hers and placed a hand over her own, what would he see when he looked into her eyes?

That question scared him a little. He knew what it meant that Roxanne had asked that of him. It meant she was well aware of her differences—but also, that they were getting to her.

And Rose's comments had only strengthened that awareness, the aching loneliness Roxanne must have felt amongst the other Weasleys. Especially her other female cousins, who had noticed just how different Roxanne was from them long ago.

Freddie didn't have the same problems. He was a boy, after all, and the boys were only interested in Quidditch, Muggle football, and chess. Teddy bet that the other boys didn't even notice that Freddie was different compared to them. How could they? Race couldn't have mattered to them yet. To them, Freddie was just their smartest, lankiest cousin. Would that change when they all went to Hogwarts, when they became a bit more aware of the outside world? Teddy hoped it wouldn't.

As sexist as it sounded, the majority of the girls were more interested in make up than Quidditch, in bows and barrettes than chess. He'd seen them looking at Roxanne, with her golden-brown skin and tight curls, and not knowing what to make of her. Not knowing where she fit it with their peach foundation and pink lip-gloss (that were more suited to their skin tone—not hers), their mini hair clips and barrettes (that were designed for use in their straight hair—not her curls).

It was different with Rose, and maybe Lily too. Rose went to Muggle Primary school and the last Teddy had heard Lily wanted to go, too. (For all he knew, she might have enrolled already.) And Teddy knew what those two would see there; children from all sorts of backgrounds, of all sorts of ethnicities and races. It would become commonplace to mingle with them. It would be different from the two girls' previous seclusion when the only playmates they'd ever known were their cousins; the Burrow, their only playground.

Rose and Lily had never been the giggly, chatty type of girls that their other cousins were, either. As far as Teddy could tell, they respected Roxanne's differences (their schooling had certainly seen to that). It seemed they were still curious, though. Or at least, Rose was, going by what she told Roxanne. He'd only attended primary school briefly before being home schooled, but he didn't think they'd taught anything like that.

He bet Rose had heard something and taken it upon herself to look it up, to further research whatever it had been. And then she had told Roxanne.

As he played with a square from the board, Teddy glanced up at Roxanne. "You know she doesn't mean anything by it. She's just eager to share what she's learnt."

Roxanne uncrossed her legs, stretching them a little and wiggling her toes. Then she crossed them again, right over left this time. "I could learn what she does, too, if mum and dad would let me."

"I know." Why was he so numb? Why couldn't he say half the things that were on his mind?

Thankfully, Roxanne seemed to have forgotten her question. But Teddy didn't think he'd ever forget; not her words, and not the look that had been on her face. Then he saw something chilled him. The letters were upside down but after a moment the word she'd spelled out with her letter pieces was all but imprinted in his brain.

_Mulatto_.

Teddy looked up and met her eyes. She gave him a fleeting, wan smile before saying it was his turn. And she didn't press the issue, neither did he—he had no idea what to say, or what to do. Should he tell her mother? What could he say?

In the end he didn't tell Angelina. He decided to be there for Roxanne as best as he could, all on his own. He could handle it, because when it came to her family, Roxanne was like a peninsula (not quite an island—yet).

But Teddy often had the feeling that her sense of isolation only became worse over the years. Especially after she was Sorted into Slytherin.

A year or so after his graduation, when the blaze that was his and Victorie's relationship had long since burnt out, Teddy was invited to a party at the Burrow. It had been a while since he'd seen many of them so he accepted.

Every Weasley was present, even relatives Arthur hadn't seen in years. Even Charlie—who loved Romania so much that if it had been a woman, he would have married it and settled down already, as Percy had put it once.

It was at that party that Teddy witnessed the culmination of Roxanne's isolation for himself.

Teddy had been leaning against the doorway for the last ten minutes, watching them all. Soaking in the atmosphere. And he saw how they treated Roxanne.

A few years had passed since Roxanne had been Sorted into Slytherin, so the family—Arthur and Molly and their progeny, that is—had had time to get used to this. As had the other Weasleys for that matter.

So it was strange, but here he stood alone, by choice, and people granted him that space. When it came to him, even if they didn't know him well (or at all, past that first introduction), their smiles, eyes and voices were warm—welcoming, despite his lack of close blood relation. (Anyone else would account all of that as the Weasleys having missed him when he was on his travels. But Teddy didn't; he was a Ravenclaw, after all).

Yet Roxanne—sweet, not-so-little anymore Roxanne, their own flesh and blood, was the one who was on the fringes of this gathering. Even though she had wanted anything but space at the beginning of the party. He'd seen it in her eyes. But when she'd greeted a few of her relatives amicably, their responses—either stilted or nothing at all—had enabled that look to die a swift, painful death.

It was what anyone else would have called a foolish hope on her part, like she should have known better than to expect anything other than what she got.

But not even Teddy had expected this.

And yet, what he'd seen with his own eyes was reality, there was no changing that. There was no changing the paradox that made Teddy—a distant relative through the Blacks—seem more welcome in this home than Roxanne. _Their own flesh and blood_. The Weasleys were big on family, were they not? Yet this... this really was not what he had expected.

Because there was no changing the air of uncertainty that thickened the air—the weighty hesitances in conversation—whenever Roxanne involuntarily made her presence known by making a noise. Like shifting in her chair. (It came to the point where she remained as still as a statue and didn't so much as cough.)

Whenever anyone looked at her—if they looked at all—it was as if they were looking through her.

Her parents had tried to engage her in conversation but those attempts had fallen flat, leaving awkward silences in their wake.

Aside from those attempts, very few people spoke to her. They mostly spoke around her. Like she didn't exist. It broke Teddy's heart to see it. Had the Christmas party during her first year been this bad? Or had it been worse—if such a thing was possible?

He couldn't quite remember. All he knew of the actual event was that he and Roxanne had spent most of their time outside, chatting to each other and climbing trees.

Roxanne hadn't been an obvious choice for Slytherin. That would have been Rose whose ambition surpassed even Hermione's (and quite frankly scared him). Or maybe Lily—solemn, sage Lily, who wished to be called 'Lillian' (Merlin knew why).

But not Roxanne.

A frown crossed Teddy's face as he watched her watching her twin brother chat with James. Freddie had called her over in a vain attempt to include her in conversation (apart from Bill and Charlie, he was the only Weasley who hadn't been perturbed by Rox being a Slytherin).

Teddy could have told him that that wouldn't work. Even if his companion had been someone other than James—who took after his namesake in more ways than one—it was no guarantee that Roxanne would be up for a chat. She wasn't garrulous at the best of times.

_And this was hardly the best of times_, Teddy thought as he looked at her. No one else would have seen what he could because she was putting on a front.

The meek girl of half an hour ago was gone. Dead and buried. Now, while she stood by her brother, her arms were crossed over her chest, her feet were just a little under shoulder width apart, her head was raised. Then there was her stare; a stare that no one wanted to meet.

Roxanne radiated defiance. At least, that was what would be seen on first glance.

Teddy could see she was trying for cold, emotionless. Almost like she was putting on a show, because coldness was exactly what most of them would expect from a Slytherin. But for Roxanne it was just what she needed. Emotional distance because they wouldn't be able to hurt her if she didn't care.

They couldn't hurt her if she didn't let them. (And how long before the peninsula became an island?)

Underneath all that, and because he knew her so well, Teddy could see what she was trying to hide. He could see her sadness. He could see it in the strain around her mouth, in the slight slump of her shoulders. And yes, he could also see it in her gaze; what seemed bold to others just seemed blank to him. (Roxanne had never been an expressive person, even as a child, but it hurt Teddy to see her like this. Where was the spark of life he'd loved seeing in her eyes?)

Even though he wished it was otherwise, Roxanne's sadness was nothing new. She had always been sad when it came to family gatherings. Even talking about them seemed to depress her.

What was it she'd said before the Christmas party in her first year? The two had been in the orchard, almost hiding from the others before dinner.

Roxanne had been leaning against a large tree, head tilted back so as to hold his gaze for he'd been seated on a branch above her, legs dangling over one side.

When she spoke, her quiet voice had reached his ears easily. "Know what's funny? Not only do I not have red hair, not only do I not have freckles, not only am I not a Gryffindor... but I'm in Slytherin." A mirthless smile had curved her lips, "I'm a Slytherin." Then she started to laugh; her laughter was almost hysterical, "A bloody Slytherin! What sort of Weasley am I?"

Teddy had winced. Rox wasn't one to curse. Things must have been bad. "You said your mum and dad were fine with it."

"That's what they said...wrote. But who knows what they really think. And now I have to face the whole family." Those last words came out between gasps, as if she was holding back tears. That's what did it. That's what made Teddy swing down from his perch on the branch, keeping his knees bent so that he would land in a crouch when he hit the ground feet-first. The impact was absorbed when he rolled forward on the balls of his feet. The momentum carried him until he was kneeling before Roxanne (and he'd only flailed once). She didn't resist when he gathered her in a hug.

He felt her shaking against him. He stroked her hair, her wild, wonderful hair. She may have hated it, but he thought it made her unique. Of course, he wasn't the only one. He remembered that her cousins—Molly and Dom and Lucy—had once pulled on the strands just to watch them spring back into shape. It had been him who told them to leave her alone even though Roxanne had been smiling as her cousins chattered and giggled around her. But that smile hadn't reached her eyes.

He'd wrapped an arm around Roxanne's shoulders and taken her outside. He had bent his head down to her ear and spoken softly, "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

She'd said no.

And he'd thought, _liar_.

Back in the orchard, Teddy didn't stop running his hand over her dark brown curls until a voice called their names. They both started. Then Teddy stood slowly, reaching down to Roxanne. She took his hand and didn't let go even after she'd climbed to her feet. As they walked out of the orchard, he didn't tell her that when the sunlight hit her hair just right, the curls took on a burnished auburn tint.

Should he have told her that? As he watched Roxanne excuse herself, he found he didn't know the answer. James didn't so much as glance at her—his dislike for Slytherins must have reached new levels to include even Roxanne. Freddie watched her go, though. But he must have learned from his mistake because he didn't call her back. He didn't call out to her as she turned her back on him either; he simply grasped her hand in his briefly before she left.

A fleeting comfort.

Roxanne had to pass Teddy on the way out. He reached out to her, "Rox—"

She swerved away from him. Not out of reach, he could have grabbed her if he'd wanted to, but the message would have been clear even if she hadn't said, "Not now, Teddy."

"But..."_ I wanted to see if you were okay_, didn't quite pass his tongue in time; she'd already gone. _Well—obviously not, then_, Teddy thought self-deprecatingly. _You idiot, Teddy Lupin. You absolute fool..._

"Hey, Ted." He started at the voice. He relaxed once he was who it was walking towards him, glass in hand. Charlie. He'd always been Teddy's favourite Weasley (of the older generation, anyway).

"Charles." Teddy greeted in kind.

Charlie smirked at him before taking a sip of his drink. Teddy looked out into the hallway. Where had Roxanne gone? Should he go after her? He felt like he should.

No, she could take care of herself. Teddy was struggling with his indecisiveness.

_You should go after her, you idiot._

_No, leave her. She'll be angry that you followed._

And on and on it went until Charlie spoke up. Sotto voce, head tilted towards Teddy. Very secretive. Teddy would have been intrigued if he hadn't been so distracted. "I was in love with a Slytherin once."

That shut the voices in his head right up. "What?" Teddy's voice was much louder that Charlie's own had been. People were looking over.

Charlie grinned. "That got your attention, didn't it?"

Charlie beckoned him out into the hallway, only once they were there, he didn't stop.

Teddy sighed. "Where're we going?" If there was a slight whine to his voice, so what? He was getting tired, Roxanne had disappeared, and nothing seemed to have changed about the Weasley's attitudes towards Slytherins (notwithstanding his late grandmother). Roxanne was the number one example. The second being this...

"What's with this — this clandestinity?" Teddy asked as they stepped out into the garden. A rhetorical question. Would Charlie take the bait?

He didn't. "Big word," he said instead as he strode ahead of Teddy. "I'm proud of you."

That wasn't an answer. Still, Teddy would play his game. Even though Charlie wasn't looking, Teddy gestured to himself, "Ravenclaw."

"Touché." Charlie led him to the orchard where he proceeded to lean against a tree, casual as you like, and sip his drink. Teddy resisted the urge to sigh again. Normally the little tidbit into Charlie's life _would_ have intrigued him, but now he just wished the older man would hurry the hell up. Teddy was worried about Roxanne. But then, when wasn't he?

Charlie leaned his head against the tree trunk and sighed, "Where was I? Oh, right. No need to look at me like that, Teddy. I've been in your shoes."

"What?"

"'I was in love with a Slytherin'..." Charlie quoted himself.

Teddy blinked, twice. Finally he opened his mouth to say, "I'm not in love with Roxanne!" That came out a bit harsher than he intended. Like, _denial, thy name is Teddy_ and _thou doth protest too much_, and all that crap.

Charlie may as well have read his mind because he said, "Could have fooled me," then raised an eyebrow at Teddy's glare. Charlie set down the glass he'd been holding then straightened and said, "Well, you do love her, don't you?"

Teddy blinked again. "Yes, but... she's my friend."

Charlie conceded the point with an inclination of his head. Awfully gracious of him.

Teddy made a _'go on'_ gesture. "'I was in love with a Slytherin.'" He was dying to know where this was going now. Roxanne...

Roxanne could wait. (He winced at that thought. If he'd made the wrong decision in not going after her, he prayed she'd forgive him.)

"Right," Charlie paused. "Well... I lied. Come now, Teddy, there's no need to be hasty." Teddy's hands were in fists and his hair was fire-engine red. "She wasn't quite a Slytherin. Not in name," Charlie explained, glancing at Teddy's now-burgundy hair. "And I wasn't exactly in love with her. I think."

Charlie's expression was soft as if he was lost in memories. "She was a Gryffindor but she might as well have been a Slytherin. She was just so different from the other members of our House. A product of her upbringing, maybe—I think a small part of her disposition was thanks to that.

"Her family..." Charlie kneaded his forehead. "I don't know how I should say this. So I'll just tell you what I know. I know that not all Slytherins are bad, or evil. The same as Bill, even if he doesn't quite show it. And the same as you and Fred"—Charlie stumbled over the boy's name slightly before continuing—"but it may take some time for the others to."

"Time?" Teddy blurted out. "It's been four years. No, not even that! How long since the War ended, again?" Charlie never flinched at Teddy's raised voice. Not even at the next part, "And if this girl you liked, or loved, or whatever, was such a good example of a 'Slytherin' that's not bad or evil, then why haven't you ever bought her here?" _Living proof,_ Teddy didn't say. But then he suddenly realised why Charlie hadn't been able to.

"She's dead." Charlie hadn't raised his eyes from the ground during Teddy's mini-rant, but now he did and Teddy almost flinched at the look on his face. Sorrow and rage. Neither of which were directed at Teddy but still... It was strange to see Charlie, easygoing, big brother-figure Charlie looking like that.

"I'm sorry," Teddy whispered.

"No, don't say that. You don't even know who she was." Charlie paused, looked away. When he looked back at Teddy, the metamorphous saw determination in his friend's face. "So let me tell you. Her name was Nora. Nora Ames. She was unlike any Gryffindor I'd ever met. She was softly spoken and reserved. More like a Ravenclaw"—here Charlie looked at Teddy in wry acknowledgement—"or, yes, a Slytherin than a Gryffindor.

"I don't think she liked being around other people, talking to other people, much. Whenever I saw her, she was always alone. After I helped Gryfindor win the Quidditch Cup, during the celebration in the common room she stood alone. Off to the side. By the stairs leading up to the girls' dorms, in fact. She'd rather have been up there, alone than down there with the rest of us—but minus Percy, who wasn't exactly sociable himself. I know, shocking that. And Nora was sipping on firewhiskey just to get through the whole thing before she left early. I know what you're thinking—how on earth did I fall in love with this girl?

"It started in my first year. I was still having nightmares about the war. The first one, that is. Bill helped me, as I helped him. We slept in the same bed, a comfort to one another—as we had been here before Hogwarts.

"Some of his year mates found out. There was some teasing"—he said the word like it was a curse—"then Nora... She'd been walking by us and she stopped. She said she wished she still had a sibling to comfort her when she remembered. 'You're lucky, Weasley,' is what she said as she looked at me and Bill."

Here Charlie smiled, "That stopped the teasing pretty fast. Then she smiled at me and Bill—the quickest of smiles—like...like there was something missing inside of her. Because it _was_ like there was something missing, broken almost, inside of her. Yet she'd still taken the time to do something kind for two Housemates she didn't know well.

"From that moment on, I just... couldn't take my eyes off of her. I looked for her whenever we were in a room together. I was so very aware of her presence, it was like a prickling sensation across my skin. I dreamt about her. Waxed poetry about her; her dark skin, her posh voice. Her full bottom lip... She had this way of not quite smiling—half smiles, really, and I wanted to see her smile. To make her smile. Properly. And I did once—just once."

Teddy could tell from Charlie's expression that it was a treasured memory. "She wasn't exactly pretty, but when she smiled..." Charlie blinked slowly then shook his head. He darted an apologetic look at Teddy, "It's like I'm a teenager again. Was I in love with her? I don't know. Maybe.

"I didn't find out about her family until after she— until After." Teddy could hear the Capital Letter status that word had earned. Charlie paused, looking a bit pale. Teddy would have asked if he was alright, except he was obviously not.

And also, Charlie had just taken a deep breath and was now continuing as if he'd never stopped. "Nora's family had been Slytherins. But not Death Eaters, and not sympathisers either. That's what really makes me sick to my stomach. Her family never had any affiliation with Voldemort"—he said the name easily and with hatred in his eyes—"yet they were dead before she even started Hogwarts. Murdered. So it wasn't just a sibling—an older sister—who had died but her parents, too.

"Bill was the one who told me that, the same time he told me that Nora...that Nora was dead. It must have been around Ron and Harry's Sixth year, yet it still feels like yesterday."

Here Teddy had to interrupt, "What does Bill have to do with all this?"

Charlie looked confused, then slapped a hand to his forehead. "She'd been in his year; they were Prefects together. After Hogwarts, I guess their lines of work crossed from time to time." Charlie sighed, "I'm telling this all wrong. Let me backtrack a bit. Back at Hogwarts, Bill had liked Nora, too. And he'd done something about it long before I had—in their third year, I suspect. After Nora told us that we were lucky.

"She rejected him. I suppose 'reject' is too harsh a word since they were sort of friends after. Like me and Nora were even after she rejected me... No, really, she did. Pick your jaw up off the ground, Teddy. I'm not pulling your leg, honest."

Charlie gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, "I told you I was telling this all wrong seeing as I left that out. Nora did like us, me and Bill—but only as friends. She didn't date; not during the entirety of her Hogwarts years did she ever date. Fame didn't sway her, and neither did good looks, apparently." Charlie grinned, it was a sad one but it was a grin nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure she was asexual—as well as antisocial, that is. And so her parents had been Slytherins, so what? If Nora had been a 'proper' Slytherin, she would never have given me or Bill the time of day. Not with us being the sons of Bloodtraitors.

"And I— _we_ suppose that's why she... That's why they..." There seemed to be a lump in Charlie's throat. _He couldn't say the words._

Teddy felt a chill. He could fill in the blanks for himself. _That's why the Death Eaters had killed her._ Because despite her Slytherin relatives, Nora Ames' ideals had not been the Death Eater's ideals. They had not been of the same mind.

"Why was she Sorted into Gryffindor? Do you know?" Teddy asked hesitantly.

Charlie shook his head. Then, slowly, a genuinely amused grin spread across his tanned, freckled face, "But I have a theory—it may have been her way of giving the finger to her family's murderers."

Teddy gave a short laugh. "Bet they loved that."

"Yeah." Charlie was whispering now. "I like to think she gave those bastards hell before they killed her. Maybe even took a few down with her. I'm pretty sure she did, actually—there was too much blood for one person. Three, maybe, but not only one. Not only one..." Charlie's eyes were distant as if he was seeing something from the past and not the trees around him.

Teddy swallowed around the lump in his own throat. He didn't want to ask—not when confronted by the bare face of Charlie's grief—but he had to know. "Do they know about this?" He jerked his head toward the Burrow. "About Nora and...?" _Your feelings for her. Her family._

"A few of them."

Teddy clenched his jaw. And yet they still treated Roxanne like...

"I know." Charlie's hands were curled into fists. "Give them time. They are trying, I can see that..."

Those words—_they are trying_—stayed with Teddy as years went by. But he continued to travel, to spend most of his time in Europe. Very rarely did he go to the Weasley's family reunions at the Burrow that were disguised as parties. After Roxanne finished her sixth year however, he was present at the Burrow during the summer holidays.

Things had changed. Seemingly small things that added up to something big. Like when Roxanne greeted Dominique. When Roxanne had greeted her two years ago, the strawberry-blonde had simply walked on. Now she paused, nodded at Roxanne before walking on. This was progress going by the fleeting smile that crossed Charlie's face. Going by the astonishment and pleasure that flickered across Roxanne's before she dissembled them.

Still, the sense of something that felt a lot like unease was palpable. When he was catching up with Victoire, Roxanne slipped out without his noticing. When he finally noticed, he got up to go after her and he caught Charlie's eye.

Charlie raised his glass in salute, then said to his nearest nieces and nephews, "Let me tell you about how I fell in love with a Slytherin." His voice carried easily. James dropped his glass and a hush fell over those present. Teddy grinned. He hoped Charlie's storytelling abilities had improved.

Teddy saw Bill smile sadly as if remembering something—he most likely was.

And just before Teddy passed under the threshold, he turned and saluted Charlie back. _Thank you_, that gesture said.

Then he went after Roxanne. It took him a while—ten bloody minutes—but he finally found her. She was lying atop the hill that separated the village from the Burrow. Not for the first time, as Teddy climbed the hill, did he wonder if the older Weasleys, his friends' parents, had ever done the same.

As he lay next to Roxanne, he bet that the twins, Fred and George, had. And definitely Charlie. Probably Bill, too.

Teddy turned his head and let his eyes rove over Roxanne's profile. It was overcast so everything under the sky and the hidden sun looked dull. But not Roxanne. She could never look drab or dreary in his eyes.

She turned her head and met his gaze. Raised an eyebrow, _what?_

He smiled a little, _nothing_.

Regrettably, she turned her head away to stare at the sky when he would have gladly stared at her for hours. "You are so weird," she said, laughing a little.

"You love it," he said as he bought his hands behind his head.

They chatted for a while. He found out that she knew about Nora, that Charlie had told her himself after she was Sorted into Slytherin.

Roxanne said she wished she could have met Nora. She felt like they would've gotten on.

"It's sad that she died," Roxanne said. "Not for me, but for Charlie. I think he still loves her."

"He does," Teddy said. "No matter what he says. I think he'll always love her. I don't know if you can just switch off your feelings like that, even if they had started as a crush." And developed into something unrequited, not that Charlie had known it was at the time.

"That really surprised me, at first." Roxanne said. "That he loved her, like actually loved her—and still does. He acts like such a player you'd never think that one girl had caught and held his attention."

"Player? Really, Rox?" Teddy laughed.

"What? He really is—no, I mean, he acts like one. The way he goes on about his Hogwarts years makes it seem like he was some sort of...some sort of _Romeo_."

He couldn't argue with her there.

"Did he ever tell you about the poetry he wrote Nora?" Teddy propped himself up with his elbow and looked at Roxanne. "I mean, did he ever tell you any of it? He won't tell me."

Roxanne smiled. "Teddy, he didn't even tell _her_ about the poetry. He would rather have..." The smile vanished from her face, "...died."

Teddy winced. "I suppose so..."

Talking about Charlie's poetry got Teddy thinking about the poem Roxanne had written for him. It had been a birthday present, and to this day it was one of the best he'd ever gotten. He treasured it so much that if he'd had a permanent home, he would have framed it, and hung it on the wall by his bed. Then it would be the last thing he saw before going to sleep, and the first thing he saw upon waking.

As it was, the poem did have a permanent home of sorts—in his pockets. He was always taking it out and reading it, or just slipping a hand into his pocket and fingering the paper.

She said her inspiration had been something she'd heard in Muggle Studies, but thinking of Charlie and his own poetry, Teddy thought that might not have been strictly true.

Though there was a fundamental difference. Roxanne had written about the way Teddy made her feel.

Charlie said he'd written poetry about Nora's dark skin and her posh voice (and maybe even her bottom lip, but yeah, he was weird like that). Physical attributes for the most part. But when you're a shapeshifter those were forever changing, in flux. They weren't constant, not the way feelings could be.

One particular part of Roxanne's poem stood out to Teddy (it always had, really).

_You hold my head up  
Above the water  
Your arms tight around me_

That lead nicely into:

_I am drowning  
You give me gills to breath  
You save me_

He was gillyweed in that second stanza, saving her even when he could hold her up no longer.

The entire poem was like a love letter from her to him. She said that when she was with him, she didn't feel the pressures of the world weighing on her.

But he wasn't always with her. Sometimes he couldn't be even when he wanted to.

Roxanne was even saying as much right now. "...I wasn't going to tell you this because I—I wanted to see your face after graduation..."

"Roxanne, what are you talking about?"

Her next words shocked him so much that he sat up. "I'm going to perm my hair."

He thought she'd been talking about getting a tattoo, or something. But perming her hair? He would have almost preferred a tattoo.

Roxanne sat up, too. "Well, say something."

"Wh—why are you... I mean, why now?"

"This isn't a new thing, Teddy. I've thought of perming my hair since I started Hogwarts. I asked my mum and she said when I was older I could. Well, when I graduate I'll _be_ older. And of age. She can't stop me from doing it then."

_What about me? _He thought_. Could I stop you?_

Teddy had always loved Roxanne's hair. He loved that he could coil a strand around his finger and it would stay there. A part of her around a part of him. That strand of hair wouldn't slip away from his finger, not like when he had flirted outrageously with girls at Hogwarts, and would coil a strand of her hair around his finger as part of that flirtation.

That strand of Roxanne's hair wouldn't slip away from his finger like Victoire's own had. And there was something symbolic about that, but Teddy couldn't be bothered to examine it right now.

He had a more pressing issue to worry about. And that was Roxanne wanting to strip away a part of herself—because her curly hair was as much a part of her as her golden-brown skin.

He thought of her poem, of himself as the thing that kept the pressures of the world away. Of himself as gillyweed. But that was the thing about gillyweed: it couldn't last forever.

Never before had he wondered what happened when gillyweed ran out. Now he knew.

"What's that look for?" When Teddy looked at her in confusion, Roxanne went on, "That has to be a sign of the apocalypse—Teddy Lupin frowning."

"If it was then the apocalypse would have come a hundred times by now, and this"—he spread his hands to encompass their surroundings—"would be nothing but a smoking crater."

He'd meant it as a joke—sort of—but she didn't smile.

"Why tell me now?" Teddy asked suddenly after a few moments of silence. This time it was Roxanne looking confusing and him who obliged her. "Why didn't you just let me see you with your— your new hair after you graduated? Why did you tell me now?"

"I don't know," she said softly.

_Liar_. The look he gave her said as much.

"I..." Roxanne sighed. "I just thought you should know. But I didn't know you'd act like this. I thought you'd at least be happy for me."

If she was trying to make him ashamed, it wasn't working. His expression must have said that much because she wouldn't meet his eyes. Not even when he said, "You're happy for someone when they say they passed their exams, not when they say they're going to perm their hair."

She rested her head on her palm, then straightened suddenly. A nervous tic. "You _know_ I hate my hair." Her lips were pursed.

"_I_ don't hate it."

She looked at him sideways, then said, "Well, you don't have to live with it. You—you don't know what it's like, being different." She gestured to the Burrow. "Growing up with them and... you just don't know."

"Then tell me how it is, Rox. But remember, I have seen some of it," he said, wishing she'd look at him.

"Some," she agreed wryly. "But you don't know everything. You don't...know my other experiences—"

"So tell me."

"Okay." She licked her lips, then cleared her throat. "Okay... Years ago, at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, while you were off eating Victoire's face,"—she glanced at him in a way he couldn't decipher—"I was little bored, a little restless. So I walked around. On the train, then the platform. I saw Uncle Ron and Harry and their families. Ron was telling Rose and Hugo that if they married a Pureblood, grandad would disown them.

"It was a joke I suppose but... If he could say that about Purebloods then what about Slytherin? Because this...this whole thing has been hell. I'm a Slytherin in a family whose legacy was being in Gryffindor for generations. Maybe if I'd been a Hufflepuff, it wouldn't have been as bad. I dunno. Cos it's not like with your grandmother's family where they could blast her off the family tapestry, and then _poof!_ She's disowned, she's dead to them.

"It's worse. Because I was never disowned or anything. I was not dead to them. I was still allowed to these family reunions, but I was on the outside looking in. Only this time it was because of something I did, it was my fault. Don't interrupt, Teddy, please... I just never believed that Hat would actually put me there—in Slytherin. And my family weren't even indifferent to me for the most part; they were disappointed and confused. And in some cases, in denial! I used to wish I was disowned, dead to them. That would have been easier than any of this. Because at least then I'd've known where I stood once and for all."

Teddy had ducked his head to hide the tears in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was thick like his mouth was stuffed with cotton, "They are trying."

"I know. Some of them have been trying for years, but the wait... It's really hard. Did you know that Albus thought he would be Sorted in Slytherin... I know—just thinking about him being anything but a Hufflepuff is strange, but Slytherin? That boy wouldn't have lasted a day." Teddy hoped she was joking.

She continued softly, "Albus was... worried about that, about being put in Slytherin. Harry wasn't as brusque as Ron. I got the feeling that if Albus had been sorted into Slytherin, Harry would'nt've cared one bit. Like he hadn't when I was."

Teddy smiled. "Harry is the best."

"If it weren't for Charlie," Roxanne said softly, "I'd agree."

Teddy laughed and inclined his head in acknowledgement. "True."

Nineteen years after the war, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was probably the only wizard who didn't think ill of Slytherins. Teddy knew that it was because the Hat had considered Slytherin for Harry, himself. He also knew why Harry hadn't wanted to be put there.

The black mark on the House of Slytherin was nothing new in Harry's day. It had been there since the time of Voldemort—or Riddle as Harry called him—yet it still marred the House more than fifty years later. And for how much longer? How long could it go on?

Immediately after the second war, when Hogwarts had reopened its doors, the amount of students in Slytherin was significantly less than that of the other Houses. Some of it was because of the amount of deaths. But not all.

Even some Slytherin students in the lower years hadn't continued to attend Hogwarts after the war. Of the upper years—particularly Harry's own—only a few students returned.

It made not just those students but the whole House seem guilty, like they had done something wrong. Which some of them had, but still... They should have gone back, they should have tried to mend things with the other Houses.

They hadn't made things easy for future generations, Teddy thought as he looked at Roxanne.

Roxanne didn't look back at him as she continued. She looked at her feet while she played with a blade of grass. "When I first met Scorpius Malfoy in his first year and told him who I was—that I was a Weasley—he didn't believe me. I took him to where Gryffindor were getting ready for Quidditch practice. I pointed out Freddie to him, and said he was my brother, my— my twin... The sun on Freddie's hair made him a lanky, blazing beacon.

"And Malfoy looked from me to Freddie and back again as if trying to find some resemblance. Then he sputtered a bit, I made out the first two words: "Your parents...?" And I said, "Our mum was Angelina Johnson." All he said was, "Oh.""

"That smarmy git," was all Teddy could think to say.

A memory suddenly came to mind. The time Harry once told him about his first meeting with Draco Malfoy, the original smarmy git. On seeing Ron, Draco Malfoy had basically said, "Red hair? Freckles? You must be a Weasley."

Teddy had found that funny then, not anymore.

Teddy hadn't taken his eyes off Roxanne since she started to talk. He looked at her objectively.

He hadn't made a habit of staring at George Weasley but he could see the resemblance. It might not have been obvious to others, but he could see that the shapes of their eyes and noses were the same. So were their cheekbones.

She was George Weasley's daughter. Undeniably, Teddy thought. He wasn't sure how to put his observation into words, though, so he simply insisted, "You're still a Weasley."

_I still love you_. He bit his tongue, he couldn't say that. He wanted to but he found just couldn't, he wasn't sure why. It couldn't have been the age gap because look at his parents'. It couldn't have been the House divide thing because he'd never been a Gryffindor (toss-up between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw) and also look at his flippin' grandparents. Sure, his namesake had been a Hufflepuff, but their divide _had_ been more than that of Houses. There was the Blood divide, too.

_Love conquers all_, Teddy thought dryly as he looked at Roxanne. Her skin looked a bit off in the sudden sunlight. He frowned.

"You look pale." _And like a deer in the headlights_, he thought when her eyes widened.

Her mouth opened, then closed. Teddy's frown deepened. He placed a hand on her cheek and turned her head so that she was looking at him. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. Yes, she was definitely paler than he remembered, why hadn't he seen it before?

Distantly he noted the flutter of her eyelids at his caress, almost as if she would have closed her eyes and basked in the brilliance of his touch. But he was brought back down to earth, to reality, when she abruptly slapped his hand away.

"What did you do?" Teddy asked.

She said nothing and his suspicions deepened.

He shuffled closer to her, so that he was staring at her profile because she'd turned her head away. "You didn't... Tell me you didn't bleach your skin."

She spoke up then, abruptly, like she couldn't hold it in anymore. "It wasn't bleach. And it was just once! I thought maybe then I'd be able to see..." If she had freckles. Roxanne recoiled away from him. "Merlin, Teddy, just leave me alone."

The last thing you told Teddy Lupin to do was, "leave me alone," if you wanted to be left alone. But that wasn't what did it. He wasn't sure what did. Maybe the whole situation? Because the next thing he knew, he was filled with a primal rage. This was more than anger, but the thing was, whenever he got angry, reason and logic fled. It was no different now when he stood, his heart pounding.

"Wh-what are you gonna do after you perm your hair, Roxanne? Are you going to dye it red?" He was shouting, but he couldn't help it. She was just so...

So impossible.

He didn't realise he'd turned away, started to walk towards the Burrow until his body snapped backwards. She had his arm in her grip. And she was gripping him tightly. Looking at him with wide eyes.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was tremulous, as shaky as the line of her mouth. But her wide eyes on his were firm. "What are you going to do?" Ah, she knew him well.

"What I should have done years ago." All the rage suddenly drained out of him. It left his voice nothing but a hoarse husk of what it'd been just ten seconds ago. "I'm going to see your mother."

He thought he saw Roxanne pale. "N-no. Please. Don't go to my mum." She fell to her knees. "She can't know. She can't!"

"Why?"

"She'll think I'm ashamed..."

"Aren't you?" He knew the answer to that. He could have cursed himself for asking that question, but now that he had Teddy realised that he wanted to hear what she had to say.

She said nothing, and he was about to extract himself from her grip and leave when she whispered, "No... I'm not ashamed." From the steel in her voice he would have believed her even if he hadn't already known the answer. But she wasn't finished. "I just _hate_ being so different. In this one thing—or two things, really—I want to be the same as... the rest of them."

Teddy would have cursed Scorpius Malfoy and his ignorance again, except Roxanne's low self-confidence hadn't started with him. Malfoy had just added to the load Roxanne bore. The weight of not looking like a 'proper' Weasley, Gryffindor robes and all. Because she'd never be like her brother. Freddie, who, despite being her twin, was redheaded (auburn, really), and light-skinned enough for faint freckles to be visible.

And Freddie could have passed for white if you didn't know that he was mixed-race, Teddy remembered suddenly.

Now that Teddy could look at things objectively, without anger clouding his senses, he found himself wondering what Scorpius Malfoy had thought when he first looked from Roxanne to Freddie. Had he heard his father's tale of meeting Ron Weasley for the first time? Sequestered away in his family manor (as his father had been during the 'Eighth Year') what had Scorpius expected of the Weasleys? A legion of redheaded, freckled Gryffindors, dressed in hand-me-down robes to boot? Those times had passed.

Not all of the Weasleys had red hair, and not all of the Weasleys had freckles. But it was Roxanne's misfortune that not only did she have neither of the aforementioned features, she wasn't in Gryffindor either. Because those three things collectively had been identifiers of the Weasleys for a whole generation. And it seemed they still were regarded as Weasley identifiers.

"What sort of Weasley am I?" Roxanne had said during the Christmas holidays of her first year, long before she'd even met Scorpius Malfoy. Those words had almost been like a portent, a harbinger of things to come. It was a phrase that would be twisted and thrown back in Roxanne's face. _What sort of Weasley are you? _Had that been what Scorpius Malfoy had thought when he looked at Roxanne? Did Roxanne see that look in everyone she met? In her own reflection?

As he looked down at Roxanne's bent head, Teddy was glad that all the rage he'd felt earlier had well and truly drained out of him. He'd said some stupid things—valid points on their own, but still stupid when he could piece together the whole story. The bigger picture, as it were.

_Oh Roxanne_, he thought sadly, wanting to reach out and stroke her hair but he held himself back. It was probably too soon for that after what she'd just told him. That she hated it—which he'd always know—and wanted to perm it. Make it as straight as her cousins' own.

He thought again of Charlie and Nora. What if she'd loved him as more than a friend? What if he'd bought her home to his parents, to his family? What if they'd had children and those children had looked more like Roxanne (cafe au lait skin, curly hair, _no freckles_) than Freddie? What if those children had been Sorted anywhere but Gryffindor—maybe even Slytherin like their mother's family?

If those things had come to pass, Teddy and Roxanne certainly wouldn't be standing here now. They certainly wouldn't be outside during a Weasley gathering—yet again. Teddy almost ached for what could have been.

Roxanne was holding his wrist now. He twisted his hand and took hold of hers.

"Roxanne," he said on a sigh. "Get up. Look at me."

When she did Teddy thought she had stopped breathing. He knew what she was seeing. What his mother must have seen. The visage that he'd been born with.

And what his mother—and grandmother—must have seen was a baby version of what Roxanne was seeing now.

He was still long-limbed, still tall, but his skin was paler. His eyes were the colour of cinnamon, perhaps amber in this light with the sun hitting him as it was. His hair was shorter, though a floppy fringe partially hung over on eye. His hair was also brown, with lighter streaks throughout. Streaks that probably looked dark blonde in this light.

His eyes were narrower, his nose was longer and his mouth was thinner and not as pink.

In the place of the rage he'd felt earlier was something else. "Look at me. This is who I am." He tilted his head back and spread his arms. "Did you hear me? This is who I am, world!" Passion. His rage had been replaced with passion, and he'd never felt such passion in all his life.

Roxanne was still looking at him like he was a butterfly who'd landed on her finger. No one had ever looked at him like that before, not when he had this face on. But then, he'd never willingly shown this to anyone before. Roxanne was the first, if he didn't count his mother and grandmother. And his grandmother had liked to see his true face when they were alone.

How could he have ever thought that he could be himself with Victoire when he'd never shown her what he really looked like? Would she have looked at him the way Roxanne was looking at him?

"Am I the first person to... Have you ever gone out like that before?" Roxanne asked hesitantly. "Even if it's just to pop down to the chippy—or whatever the European equivalent is?"

"No." Teddy said. "But you know me. I like to be as gorgeous as possible." He didn't give her a flirtatious smile. Not only did she deserve better than that, but he felt a little naked in his original form. His other form, the attractive one better suited to flirting—which was in some ways, his other self—had been what clothed him.

That was why Roxanne surprised him when she said, "What would you say if I told you that I thought you're fine just the way you are?"

He stepped closer to her until they were nose to nose. He spoke softly. Inexplicably it was the sort of softness he'd used when Victorie had told him she loved him, and again when she told him she thought they should split up (he'd said the same thing both times: "...okay."). "Why then, Roxanne, I'd have to call you a hypocrite."

She flinched as if stuck but didn't step away.

His face softened. "I think _you're_ fine just the way you are." He looped his arms around her neck, drinking in the sight of her. "Don't change," he whispered. "Please."

Her face crumpled and he thought she was going to cry. He was just about to draw her into a hug when she placed a cool hand on his cheek. He froze, feeling like a deer in the headlights. They were so close he could have counted her eyelashes if he wanted to.

She ran her fingers over his cheek, his chin, his jaw. Her thumb caught on his bottom lip and her hand stilled. His lips parted, as did hers when she glanced at his mouth, before her eyes locked with his.

Roxanne lifted her other hand, and carded her long fingers through his hair. He nearly closed his eyes to soak in her touch. "Roxanne," he sighed. The words wouldn't come. Why wouldn't they come? They were simple: _I'm going to kiss you if you don't stop_.

Then she stopped.

When Teddy opened his previously heavy-lidded eyes—that felt no different from his bedroom eyes—he saw that her face was almost expressionless. She was trying to hide from him. Only the wobble of her mouth gave her away. And her eyes. She wasn't touching him anymore and he could see her reach up to brush off his arms. Involuntarily he tightened them, effectively locking her in place.

Roxanne sighed, opened her mouth. But whatever she would have said was lost when he blurted out: "I'm going to kiss you. I want to, I mean. Let me?"

Disbelief crossed her face, then something that looked like longing. "Are you serious?" Then before he could say his customary, "No. I'm _Teddy_," she rushed on, "I've wanted to kiss you for... so long."

His heart may have skipped a beat at that. A smile curved his mouth as he leaned closer to her, "So no objections, then?"

She shook her head mutely and he gladly closed the distance between them.

Years later, when a minister asked that same question, only with the customary, "speak now or forever hold your peace," attached, there were no objections. Not one. And so Teddy Lupin, an honorary Weasley, was joined to the family in marriage. The Weasley he married didn't have red hair. That Weasley didn't have freckles. That Weasley wasn't a Gryffindor, either. But Teddy didn't care. He wouldn't have had Roxanne any other way.

Charlie was best man, and at the wedding feast, he told the tale of how, "I fell in love with a Slytherin — and watched one of my best mates fall in love with another."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

**Please leave a review if you favourite—every piece of feedback helps. :)****  
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